Memorial Day in Amish Country

Everyone else on my team seemed to be traveling to bike races over Memorial Day weekend, but I had plans to go home and help organize a giant garage sale for my family. My grandfather had just moved from his large and lovingly restored home to an assisted living center, and we spent two long days selling a huge number of the things one accumulates over a lifetime, some treasures, some junk. I was glad to be there, especially when I got to chat with long-time neighbors who had fond memories of my late grandmother, and I took away my share of treasures (mother-of-pearl opera glasses bought in Poland years ago) and junk (an electric fondue pot?). Still, I was itching to race my bike. On Sunday I went to the Indy 500 and peppered my stepdad with my endless questions about how auto racing was like cycling: "Do they draft?" "Can you block?" I declared his favorite sport vastly inferior to mine: "What? All they do is drive fast and stop for gas? What kind of tactics are those?" Still, I did get inspired by Danica Patrick's competitive drive to shlep up to northern Indiana and do a little racing myself.

Unfortunately only six women showed up for the Bristol Road Race near Elkhart with the same idea. Darn. Small fields are tactically not very interesting. Four of them didn't look too tough, but the fifth was Tracy "Texas Roadhouse" Huber. Hmmm...I hate to have a bad attitude, but line me up against a cat. 1 national TT champion and I figure I'm racing for second. They decided to mix our little field with the cat 5 guys, even though they were doing 2 laps and we were doing 3. Tracy was having none of that and started attacking on the first roller. I couldn't blame her--every time we went around a corner some guy rode into a ditch. Pretty soon I was chasing her with the lead group of five men, but after two laps we were making little headway. I didn't care if we caught her; I was rather enjoying watching her beat up on the guys Danica Patrick style. Since the other women had all gotten dropped I amused myself by trying to help my new friend Steve, a friendly older guy from Wabash, bridge back up to the leaders after getting dropped on a roller.

After securing Steve a top 5 finish, I had to ride another lap on my own. Boring! Nobody up the road, nobody behind. Plus my computer was reading 92 degrees and I was ready to find some shade. I don't understand these people who find solo breakaways appealing. (Not that this was a breakaway--all my riding partners had sprinted for their cat. 5 finish and I still had one to go.) My only entertainment was my teammate Brian Boyle waving as he rode by and the occasional Amish buggy.

Anyway, it wasn't really much of a race, but I did get a nice second-place check for $65, which paid for my entry fee and onion rings for lunch. Luke kindly drove all the way home while I interrupted my snooze only for a stop at Dairy Queen.